Progress
by RootsOfAHotelWindow
Summary: Months after Fred dies, George is forced to have a conversation with someone he wouldn't have given a thought to before. Not a George/Narcissa fic.


**Progress**

_Narcissa Malfoy entered the room as though it were a prison cell. She sat there for a moment or two in silence, her long blonde hair immaculately concealed in a bun, her black gloves still covering her hands._

_The small man walked into the room. "It was wise of you to come to me, Narcissa. I think that I can—"_

_"Mrs. Malfoy." Narcissa corrected. "As I am paying you, I would appreciate a certain level of decorum."_

_"Mrs. Malfoy indeed," answered the man. "I must warn you that not everyone will offer you this nicety or even any niceties at all. I can't take your money and lie to you; you will not be well received when you begin making public appearances again. I will prepare you for an ungracious reception."_

_Narcissa looked at him. "I wouldn't expect anything less."_

_-()-_

George resented them all. The ones who weren't family and weren't hurting like he was. George sometimes touched lighted candles, to see if that hurt as much as losing his twin.

When he got in that kind of a mood, his family was there. They all said the wrong things of course, about how Fred wouldn't have wanted him to burn himself, or stay in his room for days on end, or refuse to remove the floor length mirror he'd place between their beds to make it seem like someone else was there.

Only Charlie understood. He came home for a long holiday, and saw that George didn't care what Fred wanted. He was hurting and Fred wasn't around to stop him so he'd do what he pleased. George thought that secretly, with Charlie around, things might get better. Maybe Charlie was a lot better at people than he'd ever let on, in case they tore him away from his precious dragons.

It was because of Charlie's insistence that George came out to the final Hogwarts memorial, even though he'd been to none of the previous ones. It was a more general service than those before it, because of the ambiguity of some of the deceased's morals. People brought photos of their dead loved ones and attached them to the various boards around the walls of the Great Hall.

George said that as he was a living photo of Fred there was really no need for him to bring a photo. There really wasn't any need for him to go either. Charlie listened carefully to George's reasoning.

When Charlie left for Hogwarts, George ran after him, a photo clutched in his right hand.

_-()-_

"Don't go," George pleaded. He was looking at the floor and twisting a piece of rope.

"George," said Charlie calmly, "I'm going to pay my respects to Madam Hooch's husband. She was one of my favourite teachers so I can't just let her pass without doing anything. This is the only thing that bloody man has shown up to." Charlie took the rope out of George's hands, earning him George's full attention and a slight glare.

A better man would have told George he should stop clinging to insignificant things trying to fill the void, and he needed to get used to being on his own sometimes. Charlie did not.

"I'll bring it back," Charlie promised, "Now, have a look around and see if there's anyone you recognise. You can have a talk with them while I'm with him."

George allowed his eyes to take in his surroundings, Charlie closely following his line of sight. He saw Draco Malfoy's mother and gave a dismissive snort.

He turned around to Charlie. "There's no one-" He looked on in disbelief as he saw Charlie bend down to talk to Narcissa, wink at George and walk off.

Narcissa Malfoy walked over to George. "Your brother asked me to..." Her words faded into nothing when she was faced with George's expression. Narcissa accepted his feelings as she was suffering the same loss of a sibling. She decided her course of action would be to remain silent.

On the other hand, George's annoyance was smouldering under the surface of his skin. He detested this woman. If it weren't for her precious Dark Lord, Fred would still be alive.

"Why are you even here?" George snapped hatefully.

Narcissa opened her mouth and no sound came out. She closed it again, perhaps wondering how she had gotten to be so lonely in such a highly populated room.

"I wanted to make sure that everyone was aware of Malfoys. That we mourn the losses as well."

"What did you lose?" sneered George.

"My sister," Narcissa replied levelly. It was true, and she had received words of comfort from a small amount of people, but she knew it would be insane to take the photo of her sister out of her purse.

"Oh," said George, realisation hitting him. "My mum..."

Narcissa bowed her head slightly, as if to ward away his words.

"I'm not sure what to talk to you about," she said, swallowing awkwardly at the admission.

_-()-_

_"You must make them believe you're human. You must present your flaws and admit to them."_

_Narcissa looked blankly at the small man. He sighed._

_"Mrs. Malfoy, this will not work unless you cooperate. You need to be viewed as a human, who makes mistakes and tries to rectify them if you want to have any chance of becoming an active member of society again."_

__-()-__

"Tell me your life story," said George sarcastically.

Narcissa wasn't stupid; she had heard his tone of voice, but neither was she as cynical as to ignore the lifeline to conversation she had just been given.

"I almost wasn't born. There were talks of who would carry on the family name and my aunt had just married another Black, creating the perfect situation, but my parents decided they wanted the honour themselves. Of course, it disappointed them considerably that I turned out to be a girl. Then, in only two tries, my aunt produced two boys so I was somewhat an embarrassment. They were distant towards me, placing much of the pureblood heritage on Bella."

George looked up then. "My mother always wanted a girl. _She _didn't stop trying until she got what she wanted." There was a hint of reckless pride in his voice, daring the Narcissa to react in the same way her son did.

_-()-_

_"And you must interact more. Here I am, instructing you on how to completely alter your way of life and you haven't objected once. Even a facial expression or two would do, rather than you looking as if your face was made of stone."_

_Narcissa looked at him and raised her eyebrow._

_"Very good, Mrs. Malfoy, now we will try something a bit more obvious to the naked eye."_

_"No," Narcissa replied shortly, "My dignity is all I have left."_

_The short man looked at Narcissa sternly. "That's not true. You have your husband and your son, unlike so many others."_

__-()-__

Narcissa's face remained stoic, and she continued.

"I met Lucius in Hogwarts. It was a suitable match at the time; the Malfoy family was rising in social circles but lessening in male heirs. It is a tiresome experience for Pureblood couples to be married. We had to visit on every single Pureblood family in England, and several influential families who had moved abroad. When we married in 1977, we were to entertain each family at our new home, which took the best part of two years. Then the arrival of our son, Draco, required us to entertain again, although that wasn't as bad. They were mainly men, only dropping in to congratulate Lucius on the birth of a son and heir."

"That sounds terribly pointless and boring," George said, sounding slightly pleased.

He laughed at Narcissa's shocked face.

"Not used to talking to blood traitors are we?"

Narcissa replied with a shake of her head.

"I'm a lot pleasanter than Fred, trust me. You should be grateful."

Again, Narcissa felt that she was being goaded to react. She wanted to react this time, to offer her condolences. For all she pitied the boy for losing his twin, she still remained stiff and cold. She turned the conversation down a different path.

"I've started talking to Andromeda again," Narcissa stated. "It feels like...like I'm taking advantage, because she's lost all the family she has."

"Well you're not doing that to me. I have plenty left. Too much even, considering all the Death Eaters except you and your husband were finished, or sent to Azkaban. They only got one Weasley." George laughed bitterly.

Narcissa picked something out of George's words. "You think I was a Death Eater?" His shrug answered her question.

"I was never a Death Eater. Lucius and Bellatrix were, but I never thought it necessary." Narcissa was almost proud of the unfeeling way she'd mentioned Bella, without stumbling on it or crying. Then she remembered being told that pride would not serve her well in a Post-War Britain.

She stopped her line of thought abruptly and noticed, with some amusement, at how George Weasley was eyeing her arms.

"I could remove my coat to prove it to you if you wanted."

George was suitably chastised, and his cheeks turned faintly red. "No, no, it's fine; I believe you. It's just that I always thought you were one."

"Women don't make good Death Eaters. Women are meant to be married and have children to comfort and care for. Not to kill."

"My mother killed," said George, eyes blazing.

Narcissa berated herself for her explanation. She forced herself to begin speaking, to regain the look of mild interest George previously had.

"Your mother killed out of love for her children. When her daughter was being threatened, when your brother's name…"

"It's okay. I shouldn't have brought that up, especially when..." George trailed off. Narcissa filled in the silence by herself. _Especially when it was my Bella your wonderful mother killed_. _Especially when a mother's love caused the end of the only one who ever showed me any kind of love at all when I was young_.

"Especially when you're being so nice," he finished firmly. Narcissa raised her left eyebrow. "Talking to me, when you could be off with anyone else."

"Off by myself," she corrected gently.

"Well it's more than I would ever have thought from Draco Malfoy's mother," George said, with a small smile.

Narcissa decided not to be offended. "Thank you, I think. To be perfectly honest, a successful business was more than I ever thought a Weasley could achieve." George did her the same courtesy of not being offended. "Would you tell me about your joke shop?" Narcissa asked. "It seems like everything we've talked about has been so...heavy."

"We were working on this prototype of a mirror-" George cut off, remembering. "Funny actually, a dead bloke told us about it."

Narcissa uncrossed her arms, implying that she possessed an open, welcoming personality. "You can tell me the story behind the mirror if you like."

_-()-_

_"Physical contact is another thing. Not quite as important as the others. It can be applied sparingly or liberally dependant on the personality of the one providing it."_

_Narcissa looked vaguely interested._

_"I think it is better that we cover only the expected. Handshakes to those whom you would have not previously given offered them to, a simple hand on the shoulder or the recipients hand to express condolences."_

__-()-__

George looked past her. "Charlie." The second eldest Weasley was indeed walking toward them, accompanied by a tall black girl.

Narcissa stood up gracefully. She looked Charlie in the eye and touched his elbow lightly. "I am sorry for the effects of the war on you and your family." She swallowed and removed her hand. "And I offer my condolences for your younger brother."

"Thanks," murmured Charlie.

Narcissa nodded curtly and saw this as an escape route. She went to sit by the refreshments, with the hope that either someone would come to talk to her, or the memorial would start soon. Both wishes vanished after a few minutes so she found herself watching the two Weasley brothers and the girl.

Charlie showed George a bit of rope, and then hastily put it back into his pocket after receiving George's alarmed looks and glance at the girl.

However as the girl was gazing at the photo of Fred on the wall, she didn't notice. When she finished she embraced George, and Narcissa saw her offering to take him away, perhaps to some secluded place full of bittersweet memories, before the memorial. George hesitantly nodded, making a 'drinks' gesture. Narcissa did not drop her gaze.

_-()-_

_"Narcissa," he began once. "My apologies, I meant Mrs. Malfoy. I'm only getting older you see."_

_"Aren't we all?" If the short man's eyesight hadn't also been deteriorating with age, he may have noticed a ghost of a smile on Narcissa's face._

__-()-__

"I am sorry," she whispered to him, "For your loss." George looked at her for a moment, then nodded.

"And I am for yours. Here," he said, giving her a small mirror, "If you say my name, I'll try to answer it." He showed her an identical mirror of his own, picked up three bottles of Butterbeer, and then walked off to a waiting Angelina.

Suddenly, Professor McGonagall's voice rang out. "Would everyone please move as close to the walls as possible, the memorial will soon commence."

Narcissa, in all her finery and her pure, untainted blood gracefully walked over to the wall. There she stood next to the son of two blood traitors and the daughter of two Muggle dentists.

_-()-_

_"Miss Black, you're progressing."_

_Narcissa nodded gratefully and shook the small man's hand. "Thank you, Professor Flitwick."_

__-()-__

Squashy purple armchairs were conjured. Narcissa settled herself into one delicately, perching on the edge rather than relaxing into it. Professor McGonagall stood at the very front of the Great Hall, and just before Narcissa gave the woman her attention, George Weasley turned around. He smiled at her.

Narcissa was slightly startled. She lost none of her composure of course, or her perfect, perfect manners. But she did smile back.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Thank you so much to i fancy some honeydukes for betareading and choosing the name of the fic, the hardest part I think...Anyway, thanks for reading, leave feedback if you like!<em>**


End file.
